


Goodnight, Moon

by adropofred



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Cis Character, Consensual Somnophilia, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adropofred/pseuds/adropofred
Summary: This local doctor couldn't sleep—you won't believe what his husband suggested!
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73
Collections: Trans Newt Renaissance





	Goodnight, Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Little a porn, as a treat.

After Hermann pulls the duvet over himself for the third time, not ten minutes after throwing it off over a sleeping Newton, there's a small muffled sound to Hermann's right. At first he ignores it, feeling nothing but contempt and envy at Newt’s current state of peaceful snoozing. He focuses on rearranging his collection of pillows and cushions, but then Newt hums insistently under his breath.

“Did you say something?” Hermann asks, squinting in the dark at the shock of messy hair at the back of Newt’s head, desperate for a distraction of any kind.

“Said, jus’ rub off against me.”

His words are slurred together and mumbled into the pillows. Some part of Hermann wants to dismiss them, but the very physical part that has been lying awake for a long time now is overjoyed at the idea of something to fill the time other than play Tetris with the bedding, if only a conversation with a sleeping Newton.

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Y’can't sleep. Keep wakin’ me up. Just rub off on my ass,” Newt mutters groggily, shifting slightly. He's wonderfully warm, and hardly reacts when Hermann sneaks his cold fingers under his shirt to mindlessly stroke the fuzz on his belly.

Newton snores once and hums again, a little impatiently. “You're sleeping. I wouldn't…” Hermann starts, unable to find words. He's never really seen the appeal. They've both teased at it, when already preoccupied by this sort of carnal affairs, but he likes the reciprocity of sex. Something about groping a sleeping partner has always made him a little uneasy, made him feel dirty in an unpleasant way. It seems odd to have to clarify that the concept isn't appealing.

“M’not sleeping,” Newt slurs, “Can't really sleep when y’move.”

“Do you want me to kip on the sofa?” Perhaps this is the point that Newt is trying to get to, Hermann wonders.

Groaning, Newton rocks against him a little, squirming against his crotch. “Want you to rub on me.”

In spite of himself, Hermann feels a bolt of arousal strike down in his belly. They could be cooking dinner, if Newt were to mention that he wants to sit on Hermann's face later, Hermann’s cock would perk up in his briefs. Actually, this exact scenario has happened before. Once, they ended up fucking against the refrigerator.

Hermann happens to find even the worst of Newton’s ideas incredibly difficult to resist.

“Newton…”

“Mm. Don't you wanna?” He yawns. “Be all sleepy afterwards.”

The idea takes hold in Hermann's mind, grinding his hips into Newt’s soft, warm, relaxed body; coming and basking in the afterglow to slip right into blissful sleep. He moves his crotch in tiny, slow circles against Newt’s behind, more testing than teasing.

“That's right,” Newt murmurs, vaguely petting Hermann's hand, still on his belly. “Use me, mmh?”

“Oh,” Hermann blurts out, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. That's more in line with Newt’s usual dirty talking fare, urging Hermann to claim him and his body, to spend himself in him. “Are you sure, darling?”

“Mm, yeah,” Newt breathes out, boneless, laid out in front of Hermann, at his disposal. “N’next time  _ I  _ can't sleep…”

He trails off, but the suggestion runs on straight into Hermann's mind, Newt manhandling him on his back while he sleeps, tugging down his pyjamas and briefs just enough to pull out his dick. “ _ Ah _ ,” Hermann says intelligently, and hurries to do just so.

When Newt hums his assent, he pulls down his shorts over his arse. Hermann palms at him for a second, a fist around his rapidly hardening cock and his other hand playing with the weight and plushness of Newt’s arsecheeks. He thinks of them jiggling as Newt bounces on his dick, laying carelessly face down between Hermann's spread legs to fuck himself just right. He wonders if he would wake up. He sleeps so deeply sometimes, dead to the world, but he likes to think he would wake up for this, Newt feeding a midnight cock craving on him. 

It wouldn't matter, Hermann thinks as he spoons up behind Newt, lining his dick to pillow it between Newt’s cheeks. It wouldn't matter because he would be a toy for Newt’s amusement, not much more important than a dildo, just here to fill him up and keep him sated until morning. 

In his arms Newt moans a little, more sleepy than wanton, and Hermann kisses the side of his neck.

Newt is usually so loud and expressive, urging Hermann on, squeaking and moaning and laughing. Would he do the same in the middle of the night, or would he bite his lips to hold the sounds in, muffle them while climbing on Hermann inelegantly? He's a little quiet now, breathing slowly and regularly as Hermann rocks against him, huffing out absent words of encouragement and making low little noises in his throat. Maybe it would be the same—quiet, uncontrolled sounds, the wet noises of fucking, the slapping of that perfect arse on Hermann's thighs.

He laughs a little when Hermann speeds up, grabbing hold of Newt’s hip to feed his cock between his cheeks, then makes a little shocked hum when Hermann pulls back to spit on the spot where they're touching.

“Tha’s right,” Newt mumbles once more as Hermann starts rutting again, the slide of his prick smoother now, better. “That right, Hermoso. Keep working. Get off.”

“ _ Newton _ .”

“Mmh, go on. M’yours.”

He is, he  _ is _ , and some part of Hermann is delighted that even so sleepy, so far gone, Newt is still so focused on pleasing Hermann, making sure he's happy and sated and comfortable. He finds himself eager to be able to return the favour someday.

Perhaps Newt wouldn't even bother to make him come. He would ride him to his heart and his cunt’s content and put him away wet, pull Hermann’s pyjamas back over his still-hard cock before going to sleep peacefully. Hermann grunts at the thought, rocking his erection against Newt’s arse harder, faster. No thought of stopping before he comes occurs to him at the moment, not when Newton made himself such a sweet, soft thing to rub off against. It would be rude, wouldn't it, not to come?

He’s  _ so  _ close—his dick has been leaking steadily for a minute now, ever since he started thinking of it soaked by Newt’s cunt and too much lube, applied hastily because Newt would be in a hurry, frustrated but too tired to go get a toy, too uncoordinated to make use of his own two hands. Perhaps he would have been trying to get himself off, jerking his clit next to Hermann before deciding to put him and his penis to good use.

Hermann grunts, a little breathless, feeling too warm in his pyjamas but unable to care. He wishes he could see the slide of his erection in the plush cleft of Newt’s arse, the little smears of fluid left behind by it.

“Gon’ come?” Newt murmurs when Hermann groans. His fingers are digging into Newt’s belly, his muscles tense as his body focuses on taking its pleasure. “C’mon, mess me up.”

Burying his face in the hair curling at the nape of Newt’s neck, Hermann inches closer, willing himself to be able to climb under Newt’s skin. “Darling, sweet filthy thing,” he mutters.

“Yeah. Go, attaboy.”

“Newton,” Hermann says, half a cry of passion and half one of admonishment, and then he says nothing and keeps grinding. His bollocks tighten, his leg spasming moodily, his lips trembling. He comes with a soft little cry muffled into Newt’s hair, pumping his hips against his arse to chase the aftershocks and further smear the mess between them.

“ _ Ah _ .”

Hermann kisses the side of Newton's neck as he gradually slows. By the time he stops entirely, he realises he's absolutely exhausted, his breath short, his bones heavy, his heart demanding rest. “You're a genius,” Hermann mutters softly.

“Mmh.”

Newt seems to relax further, and hardly reacts when Hermann pulls his shorts back up over his arse after ungluing himself from him. 

“I love you,” Hermann tells the back of his head anyway, awkwardly using the too-wide leg of his pyjama bottoms to wipe off his sensitive dick, his lazy and uncoordinated. He's too tired to care. If Newton does, come morning, Hermann will suggest a shared shower. 

“Lo’you,” Newt grumbles, somewhat smug, before he snores again. 

Hermann sets his hand on Newton's belly again and sighs contentedly. He drifts off stroking the soft, downy skin slowly, his thumb like the needle of a metronome following the pace of Newt’s breaths, and sleeps on until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @[_adropofred](https://twitter.com/_adropofred)


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